Aladdin and the Queens of Storybrooke
by seriousish
Summary: To keep their family together, Emma and Regina are willing to go to the far reaches of a distant realm. To Bagdad, home of a cunning young thief, a rebellious princess, a scheming vizier, and a genie who can save her whole world. EmmaXRegina.
1. Chapter 1

The princess just couldn't take the thought of another suitor saying the same damn things, poems with the same damn rhymes, songs with the same damn chords, bouquets with the same damn roses. A feast of unappetizing meals, and despite her lack of hunger she had to eat one. Was it any wonder she'd run away?

Not far. The establishment she found herself in was frequented by many in the palace, but she doubted any of the customers would recognize her away from her tower, without the fabulous costumes her father provided her. She didn't actually own any clothes that were simple, plain, practical, like normal people wore, so she was naked under the coarse robes she had borrowed from the palace serving girl. She didn't mind it scraping against her skin. It felt real.

She walked through the building's miasma of hashish smoke and perfume, masking the unmistakable odor of sex. It was much like the palace in its construction: nothing slapdash or crude. But where her home was stark and pristine, this admitted the presence of physicality, sensuality, in a casual way that appealed to her. The colors of the place were deep, varied, almost gaudy. They inflamed the senses.

And the women—employees—they wore loose, semi-translucent garments that seemed to caress their skin as they lazed around hookahs, ate bits of succulent fruit, and other activities that were enticing enough not to be saved for the privacy of their own rooms. She almost felt she could be a customer; she wouldn't have minded spending some of her coin on one of the beautiful, willing ladies.

But that was not what she'd come here for. She knew she couldn't stay; within the night, she would have to be back at the palace. But she would not return the same woman. Her father could force her to marry, even demand she provide him his precious male heirs, but her first time (her most important time) would happen as she liked. And if her only choice was to pick a man at random—for who would lie with the Sultan's daughter, knowing the penalty?—then at least it was her choice.

Finding the harem-keeper, Jasmine decided once and for all she would lose her virginity here.

* * *

"No. We're not doing this. Not happening."

Regina looked at Emma. Emma had come to recognize the face she made when she wanted to cry but never dared. The mirror image of the one Snow made, but with every tear coddled, every sob mollified. Regina had never had that. Never been a princess. Not even a child, really. Never had anyone besides Henry, and now she was losing him and he was losing her.

Opposite the sun, the Curse was aborning in the sky, a second moon of malevolent color. "Emma, don't make this harder than it has to be," Regina choked out, gesturing to the town square around them, all the people who had volunteered to pack up the Bug—a quick attempt to give her souvenirs, tools, some remnant of anything to take with her.

Emma just shook her head once more. "You're his mother—"

"Don't!" Regina choked.

"You're his mother and I'm not taking him away from you. I don't want to be some foster mom who takes him away from his _home. _There has to be another way."

Regina gritted down the sob she wanted to let loose. "Yes! We wait until the Curse gets here and then we're frozen in time for all eternity. That's a bit too much family bonding for my taste."

"There has to be _something._" Emma stepped into Regina's space, almost nose to nose with her, and begged. "You've never accepted your fate. You've brought the dead back to life, you've moved the moon, you've banished your own mother to another realm. Tell me there's something that can stop this and _I will get it. _I don't care if it's Gabriel's trumpet, I'll pack an overnight bag and kick down the Pearly Gates."

In counterpoint to Emma's determined headshake, Regina's head moved from side to side, slowly and softly. "The price of magic is always paid. All fates must be met. I deserve this. And you deserve Henry."

"Oh, quit feeling sorry for yourself. We've already done the impossible once this month, what's one more time?" Emma took Regina's hand, trying to push her determination into Regina. She even ripped off Regina's glove and took hold of the bare hand underneath in both of hers, pressing her warmth into Regina's cold fingers. "Please. Help me. Do this with me. You said traveling the realms was impossible, but then there were magic beans and Peter Pan's shadow and who knows what else? So there has to be something to stop this Curse. Anything."

Regina closed her eyes. She wouldn't let herself hope. Though she knew she shouldn't, she would tell Emma just to discourage her. "A wish."

"A wish? Like, wish upon a star-?"

"No." Regina's eyes shot open in irritation. "A genie's wish. A genie's magic can do anything, short of bringing the dead back to life or—"

"Or making people fall in love, or killing someone. Yeah, I saw the cartoon."

Regina's brow furrowed in familiar confusion. "What cartoon? Never mind. It's hopeless. There hasn't been a genie besides Sidney in the Enchanted Forest for over nine hundred years—"

"What about somewhere else? Some other realm? IDIC!"

_"What?"_

Still clinging to Regina's hand, Emma pulled her along. "Infinite diversity in infinite combinations! I've worn glasses, I know what I'm talking about! Where's Sidney?"

"I—the ice cream parlor, I suppose, with everyone else. Why?"

"He used to be a genie? Let's ask him where his old frat brothers got off too."

* * *

Prince Achmed walked the halls of the brothel. Such an odious place. No stimulating murals on the walls, no band playing to increase the libido, and a paltry collection of wine. The women were no treat either. Some had their hair done up in the most displeasing styles, others wore clothing that could've been calculated to offend him, many spoke inarticulately—oh, they were lucky he was gracing them with his patronage at all.

If he weren't courting that prudish, teasing Princess Jasmine, didn't need the release from his burdensome duty, he wouldn't have come at all. As was, he would probably have to take one of the less offensive ones and have her from behind, just to keep his stomach from revolting. Probably gag her as well, lest she blister his ears with her whining. Such an inconvenience. It seemed he'd been made for suffering.

And what's more, he'd had to put up with all the beggars and children and lepers asking for money as he went inside. It was a wonder he'd restrained himself to lashing only five of them as he passed, but he hadn't wanted to get blood on his good riding crop.

"Madame! Madame!" he called, too annoyed to deal with the long-held custom of wandering the brothel's so-called sultry environments and finding a companionable woman for the evening. Why bother? He wanted the best and he was willing to pay.

Far too late for a reasonable customer to bear, the harem-keeper made her way to him—a thick-set woman in robes meant to conceal her bulk. A pity they did such a poor job of it. "Yes, effendi, how may I assist you this fine day?"

"No need for pleasantries. Just give me a woman; your finest whore. And have her bathe first, so long as she be quick about it."

The harem-keeper's eyes narrowed with distaste, but she was too greedy to turn down his gold, as Achmed well knew. Living in Bagdad was an expensive pastime. "Yes, effendi. Of course. And how will you be paying?"

"How do you think, idiot woman?" He reached for the purse hanging from his belt.

It was not there.

Prince Achmed turned to see a man disappear around the corner, the only sign of him the end of a white pant leg and a bare foot.

"Stop! Thief!"

* * *

The ice cream parlor was packed with fairy tale characters wanting to enjoy a last pint of Rocky Road before being transported back to medieval times forever. Emma pushed through them, not making much headway through the Stabbington brothers enjoying waffle cones until Regina calmly cleared her throat and said "Excuse us."

They parted, as did the rest of the store. Sidney was on one of the stools. Always one to keep his ear to the ground, he'd worked out what the Curse meant before most others, and decided he wanted a serving of mint chocolate chip before he went.

"Sidney!" Emma called.

He looked her way. "Sheriff—" Then lit up. "Madame Mayor!"

"Stop calling me that," Regina chided. "Although technically I wasn't impeached…"

Emma barreled into the counter opposite him. "Sidney, you know about any other genies?"

"Not really. In all my centuries, I've only ever met one, and—"

"_Where?_"

"Bagdad. Not all that dissimilar to my own Agrabah, except for—" He eyed Regina. "You know. The thing."

"And there's a genie there?"

"Last time I checked. Though that was one or two millennia ago."

"Alright, perfect, thanks!" Emma rushed out, then slapped a twenty on the counter. "His cream's on me!" Then, realizing how that sounded, she hurried out even faster.

Sidney didn't watch her go. He was far too focused on Regina. "Regina, since this might be the end, I have to tell you—"

"Hold that thought," she said, running after Emma. "Wait up, Ms. Swan!"

Sidney morosely turned back to his ice cream. And they wondered why he'd tried to get elected sheriff. Clearly, Regina had a fetish.

* * *

It wasn't that Aladdin had _meant _to rob anyone. He'd already made enough to eat for a week working odd jobs the last day and night. Work was scarce, but it did come every so often. He preferred that to running from the city guards, as much fun as that could be.

He'd gone to the brothel not because he could afford it, but because the women there made good drinking partners and a bottle of wine he could afford. And, though it was unreliable at best, his charms and looks could be brought to bear on even the hard-hearted women of the red-light district, and on occasion he had found a few to 'practice' their trade on him for no more reward than him doing the same for them. Something they rarely encountered in their line of work.

It'd been total coincidence that Aladdin had arrived by rooftop at the same moment as a nobleman arrived atop a majestic stead. And that that nobleman had proven himself a complete jackass, even by the standards of noble blood. Aladdin just couldn't let a woman subject herself to a man like that, even for pay. So he'd swiped the prince's purse. The gods would probably be pleased with him, removing temptation from so many parties in the would-be transaction.

He probably should've noticed that the prince had been accompanied by a private guard. Who were very fast. And very athletic.

Of course, being foreigners, they didn't know the city like him. Especially not the rooftops.

Aladdin ran and jumped.

Whatever happened, he had to keep one step ahead of the lawman.

* * *

"Emma, could you please try and restrain yourself to a light jog?" Regina called in the demanding tone that came with her polite requests. "Some of us are wearing heels!"

"Some of us aren't so sensitive about our height that we wear stilts everywhere we go!" Emma shot back.

Without missing a beat, she stepped out in front of a moving vehicle, in keeping with Regina's assessment of her mental acumen. But this moving vehicle, unlike the one in Regina's fantasies, skidded to a stop within feet of Emma. She charged the driver's door, throwing it open and him out.

"Princess business, I'm commandeering your vehicle! Regina, get in!"

Just like that, Regina found herself in the passenger seat of a 1979 Chrysler that smelt of burnt rubber. "Good to see you trading up your death traps."

"Where's Ariel?" Emma shouted, which Regina _did not _appreciate.

"With Eric, most likely. That crab shack by the bay."

Emma stepped on the gas.

* * *

"What are you doing back here?" the harem-keeper demanded, seeing Aladdin sprawled on some of her plushest cushions, still panting hard enough to work his slim chest like a billows.

"When you think about it, it's the last place they'd look." One of the more grateful harem girls brought him a carafe of water. He didn't press his luck troubling her for a glass, instead drinking directly from the source. "Come on, don't give me that look. You're too mercenary to ever admit it, but I bet you love not having that braying ass for a customer."

"That braying ass was about to pay five thousand shekels for a night with my finest girl! And knowing him, that'd be five thousand for a minute's work! With help like that, you'll put me in the poorhouse!"

"We have a poorhouse? Where is it?" His attempt at humor fell flat. The girl who'd brought him the water now had her hands on her hips, and not in a particularly sexy way. (Although…) "Well, if it means that much to you, I suppose I could give you your five thousand shekels."

He held up the prince's money bag, which drew the harem-keeper's eye every bit as much as Aladdin's was drawn to the many interested women who were moving in with interest.

"As long as I get what he was going to," Aladdin grinned.

"Effendi," the harem-keeper said graciously, bowing low. She straightened and walked away, gesturing for a eunuch to draw close. "Save Sadira for someone else," she whispered. "Put him with the new girl instead, he won't know the difference. If Achmed comes back, we could double our money!"

* * *

The streets were clear as Emma raced through them, but Regina doubted that was why she was pushing a hundred. They hit the harbor in a matter of minutes, finding Eric and Ariel lovingly gazing into each other's eyes as they skipped stones. Seeing Emma pull up across three parking spaces, Ariel ran out to them excitedly.

"Emma! Regina!" A trace of darkness entered her voice with the latter name. "Wonderful news! We're getting married!"

"That's great!" Having a twelve-year-old meant Emma could fake enthusiasm with aplomb.

"They've known each other a day," Regina stage-whispered—meaning Ariel could overhear. "She doesn't know his last name."

"I do so!" Ariel protested. "Human."

"Human?" Regina was taken aback.

"As in 'Eric the Human'? Now who doesn't know his last name!"

"We're wasting time!" Emma cried. "Ariel, you can travel between realms, right?"

"Yes, with my mermaid half."

"Right!" Emma pounded her fist into her palm. "So you go to Bagdad, get the genie, wish the Curse away!"

"Emma, this woman didn't have toes twenty-four hours ago. You're really going to trust her with saving all our lives?"

"No," Emma said, netting an affronted gasp from Ariel. "We're going with her. Get in the car."

* * *

Aladdin let himself be led to the private rooms after refusing a puff of the hookah. He wanted to remember all of this. Usually, the girls who took up with him were apprentices, servants—not bad, by any means, and their efforts were definitely appreciated. But to lay with one of the courtesans who serviced the royals, the Sultan himself…

He found himself in a large, lavishly appointed room, the lighting lower and more intimate than it'd been in the open-air brothel above. Layer upon layer of hanging silk added to the room's intimacy. Once he'd pushed past it, it hung closed behind him, sealing him in with the woman on the bed. With her beauty.

He didn't know what to say. Luckily, she did. "Hello. I'm Jasmine."

* * *

Now the car barreled along the coast, Emma taking the town's desertion as an excuse to drive on the sidewalk and wherever else she pleased.

Regina grudgingly tried to hold herself steady. "Even if Ariel can take us with her, it can take hours to travel realms by water. I don't know what practice _you've _had, but I can't hold my breath that long."

"Sure you can. And so can I."

In under a minute, they'd reached Bob's Scuba Rental.

* * *

Outside the brothel, the guards drew in. They had their weapons ready. Soon, they'd have their quarry.

* * *

"As I said, it's a two hundred dollar rental and a four hundred dollar security deposit. Them's the rules."

"Listen here, 'Bob,' this is a clear case of civil emergency. As a citizen, you are _duty-bound _to assist us without thought of compensation!"

"Regina, just pay the man."

"It's the principle of the thing, Emma. He has a civic duty!"

"Fine, I'll pay him… Ariel, you have a ten and ninety cents?"

"No, she doesn't, she was a fish last week."

"I have the money right here."

"Jesus, Ariel, where'd you get all that?"

"I mugged someone!"


	2. Chapter 2

At the foot of the bed was a small chest. From past experience, Aladdin knew it contained numerous devices, none of which were necessary with a woman this beautiful. You didn't pour salt onto dark chocolate. But there was a carafe of wine and two small glasses with cups the size of eggshells. He poured for each of them, more out of a desire for business than thirst.

"I'm sorry, you'd like one, right?"

The woman—Jasmine—was swathed in layers of silk like something precious and fragile. That struck him as a half-truth. She did seem truly precious, but fragile? No. There was a strength in her amber eyes, even if it didn't come with the hardness he saw so often on the streets of Bagdad.

"Yes, please," she demurred, speaking in the same tones of nervousness and excitement that he did. "First time here?"

"Yeah." He shrugged and offered her a glass. A slim hand emerged from the silken folds, fingers delicate and long, soft where they brushed against his knuckles. Not even close to being a worker's hands. "First time paying for it. Not that I—not that they're just giving away—like I'm some seductive—I'm not trying to brag."

"No, no, I get it." She brought the wine to her lips. Lucky wine, Aladdin thought distantly. "It is different, isn't it?"

"Yes. When it's… for real." He downed his own drink, unthinkingly falling back on uncouth routine and swallowing it in one go. It was spiced and sweet, but most of the flavor was lost on him in his haste.

Jasmine giggled at him, then with perfect poise sipped the wine up in a long, slow draught. Aladdin now outright envied the red liquid.

Aladdin sat on the edge of the bed, nearly falling off the slick sheets before righting himself. But he made Jasmine giggle again, which was worth it.

"This is my first time too," Jasmine said. It popped out of her like a bubble from the wine.

He looked at her, finding that hard to believe. A woman so beautiful…?

"My first time in a place like this," she explained.

"Sheewa said—" Aladdin began, naming the harem-keeper, then smiled to himself. Yes. She would try to fool a rube into paying through the nose for a new girl. Though he couldn't for the life of him imagine a girl he'd rather have. "You didn't seem like the other girls."

Jasmine's face fell. "No? Did I do something wrong? Is there something—"

"No, no. It's just the way you hold yourself. The way you look around. I can tell you're not expecting a dagger in the back or anything."

Her frown deepened. "Should I be?"

"Here? This is an amusement park." Especially compared to some places he could name. "It's not uncommon for a noblewoman to take up this line of work. But it's usually out of boredom, or widows who don't want to remarry for sex. I've never seen someone as young as you volunteer for this. Surely you must have suitors—"

Her smile retained the flavor of her frown. "None I'd want in my bed, even for a little while. I didn't want to be seen as my jewelry or my dowry or my inheritance. I wanted to be seen as a woman." Her foot emerged from the draping silk to rub at his thigh. "Do you see me, Aladdin?"

"I can't see anything else."

She smiled so hard she giggled. He could get used to that laugh. Maybe he already was. "If only I knew what to do. I thought one of the older women would show me, but they just stripped me bare and made this—painting out of me." She looked at him with wide, excited eyes. "Do you know what to do?"

"Absolutely." Putting his hand next to her, he eased his body closer. "Ask you what you want me to do."

Her expression was bashful, then hoping. "Well, I mean—this scenario is somewhat geared toward you. What you want."

"I want to make you smile. C'mon, Jasmine; when you came here, what did you dream would happen? What's the fantasy?"

She batted her eyelids as she blinked, and he saw her bare hand come to her chest. Maybe she was feeling her rushing heart. It couldn't be going any faster than his.

"My prince comes for me—my sweet prince—he—he isn't wearing a vest. Or a fez."

"Fezzes are cool," Aladdin protested, but obediently rid himself of both items, leaving him bare from the waist up. Good thing; it was quite a waist.

Jasmine sucked on her teeth. It didn't get any worse to the North.

"Then what does your prince do for you?" His voice—calm, assured, confident. Falling into a dream with her. She looked down at the swathes of silk covering her and was suddenly overwarm in them.

"He takes these off," she said, shedding the first layer. She wanted to do that much for herself. "One at a time, until I'm all but naked."

The silk covered her like blanket and comforter, her body rendered into a shadow by the many layers of opaqueness. At first, it was like pulling the petals off a flower. The silk was so light that it caught in the air as Aladdin tossed them aside, fluttering around them at the slightest breeze. Jasmine's body became a mystery, then a vague hint, a suggestion, a promise. Until she seemed more naked than naked, the few remaining paper-thin layers doing little more than shading her nudity.

She had seemed too good to be true, a mirage in the desert, but his eyes did not deceive. In a world of ugliness, blood, and corruption, she was an oasis. Her skin was a rich olive shade, dipping like honey across supple muscles. He felt like an ogre for letting his eyes bask in her curves, when the rest of her was equally regal and feminine, but he couldn't help it. Her ass was full and round, large but in a manner keeping with her body, while her breasts stood out from her body as if inviting hands and eyes.

But even those paled in comparison to her lips: full and rich, he realized they had captivated him long before he even looked at her body. He stopped undressing her to run his finger over their soft curve; his eyes met hers, agile and flirtatious, with a quirk of her dark hair fallen between him. He brushed that away as well.

"Do you want to take off the rest?" he asked gently.

"Yes," she said, answering both his questions. She wanted not only this, but _him_.

It wasn't some customer to whom she pulled away the last of the sheets, finally letting him see her unadorned. It was Aladdin.

"Then you kiss me."

He couldn't wait any longer. Their lips met, her mouth fitting to his perfectly, their lust finding a natural equilibrium. He felt neither uncouth or overly polite kissing her; she did not seem either vulgar or prudish. It was just _right._

He felt abashed to touch her, like he would be to smear the paint on a portrait, but she took his hand and brought it to her warm skin. It seemed too smooth and soft to exist in his world, the dewy little hairs that covered her stomach tickling his hand like tiny sparks. As they kissed, he felt out the curve of her hip—the dip of her navel—lower, lower now, to the hidden firmness of her pelvis.

Her meeting of his kiss became more heated, with soft moans dying in her throat. Jasmine pushed at his wrist encouragingly. He let his hand go limp, allowing her to guide him between her legs. There, she was everything he could've hoped for. Warm and wet like a melted candle, a flame lit long ago. He stirred with one finger, then with two, finding her tight but receptive in the extreme. The moans of her throat forced themselves out into the open, and she had to rush between kissing him and letting her body voice its own approval.

Finally, she had to pull away all together, panting like a wild animal, both her hands on his wrist to keep him delving into her sex. A third finger and her head was flung back like she was riding a stallion, her voice now reaching the volume of a scream.

"What does he do next?" Aladdin asked, brushing his lips over her cheek as if he could sample the pleasure coming off her. "Your dream lover?"

Her parted lips formed a guileless smile. "He does exactly what you want to do. _Aladdin…"_

Her thighs tightened on his hand as her hands flew to his waistband, working with impressive control to undo the sash that held his sirwal up. It had not even unspooled before she had his trousers down around his hips, not caring where they fell, only that he was exposed. If the size of his manhood gave her pause, she didn't show it, grabbing him almost painfully.

Jasmine stroked him with one hand, pulled his body close with the other. Her efforts were unpracticed but her enthusiasm was contagious. He kissed her again, fingering her as her hand rode his cock. Now he dared to use his free hand to explore her body, squeezing her breasts, her hips, her ass. She was like pure gold: firm, but yielding to the touch. And precious. Undeniably precious.

Her nethers clutched at his fingers. He let her have them. "Stop, _stop," _she said suddenly, and he pulled his hands back, stilled his lips, worried he'd hurt or offended her.

"What is it?" he asked, struggling not to drown her in apologies.

"I was about to—I almost…" She grinned shakily. She wasn't in pain; just the opposite.

"That's a problem?"

"No, it isn't; I just want to come with you inside me." Her vast amber eyes looked up at him, tugged at him. "If that's alright with you."

He huffed a laugh. "I can learn to live with it."

And he barely gave himself time to kiss her before she was flipped on her back, his body crashing between her legs, parting them as his hand gripped his rod and led it to her entrance—

An arrow hit the bed between their spread legs.

He eyed her. "That's never happened to me before, I swear."

Pushing Jasmine against the headboard and protectively backing into her, Aladdin looked around to see a cadre of guards piercing the room's many veils, some with swords drawn, some with arrows nocked, none looking happy to see him. They weren't rank-and-file guards either; by the feminine sway of their bodies under skintight black robes and the balaclavas that covered everything but their diamond-hard eyes, it was the Royal Guard. All female to ensure they wouldn't interfere with any of the virgins under their protection.

"To the dungeon with him!" the leader shouted, aim coming to rest on Aladdin's head. "He's defiled the princess!"

"To be fair," Aladdin said as manacles were dangled before him, "we were still warming up for the defilement…"


	3. Chapter 3

God, wearing a wetsuit made Emma feel butch. Not in a good, Pink in a suit kinda way. In a bad, 'anatomical diagram of where that bag of chips you ate last week ended up' way. Regina pulled it off. She looked like she was wearing just another dress. In fact, it kinda looked like one of Regina's dresses.

They were assembled on the Storybrooke docks beside the Jolly Roger, them in their wetsuits, Ariel in her sarong and seashell bra, and a few of the townspeople there to see them off. It was hard not to feel ludicrous, dressed like they were and being these people's only hope. You wanted to see a Savior in red leather and combat boots, not flippers.

"You be careful, alright?" Mary-Margaret hung onto Emma's hands like the ground might give way under her. "Bagdad isn't like here. It's not even like the Enchanted Forest. When I was a child, I heard things—distant rumors—Emma, you mustn't take any chances. At the first sign of danger, get behind Regina."

"Thanks," Regina said, overhearing.

"Don't trust anyone!" Mary-Margaret insisted. "Always be on guard. Remember, _it's not like the Enchanted Forest. _There were good people there. I'm not sure if there are in Bagdad."

This was getting a little over the top for Emma's tastes. "Will we ever find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy?" she asked sarcastically.

"No! You probably won't!"

"She gets it," Regina interrupted with a mother's impatience. "They're Game of Thrones and you're Narnia. Can we go, please? Any more dillydallying and—"

Mary-Margaret hugged Emma, prompting the Evil Queen to roll her eyes. "You'll come back to me," she said. "I know it. I just know it."

"Yeah, M—Mom. I will."

Regina took over, taking Emma by the shoulder and giving Mary-Margaret an assuring, almost apologetic look. She went over Emma's scuba gear one more time—having lived in Storybrooke for twenty-eight years, she'd had time to become an expert diver. And once she was satisfied, they each took one of Ariel's hands and walked down the ramp used for cars to back towed boats into the water.

When the ground was no longer under them, Ariel took over. She was surprisingly strong, pulling them both along faster than that time Emma had gone water-skiing. Her newfound tail beat powerfully through the water. Emma watched the concrete ground become sandy seafloor, then that too dwindled away as they passed the breakers. Ariel pulled them lower and lower as they went. The sun dwindled, leaving them suspended in nothingness, no Earth, no sky. And still they swam.

* * *

Emma focused on her breathing. It felt like it'd been hours, but she still clung to Ariel's hand, still lazily kicked to aid in their flight. When she looked over at Regina, she saw a woman with perfect form, her legs swaying more like a dance than a dive as she knifed through the water alongside Ariel. Emma felt like she was dull cleavering through the water.

Then she saw the walls. They pressed in on all sides, rows of rock and sand. She hadn't seen them enter a cave. This was like they'd swum down a giant funnel and were only now seeing the edges. They swam down and down and down, until Emma realized they were actually going up-up-up. Into the light of a new sun, into the comforting embrace of masonry walls, until they came up for air and the walls kept going, another twenty feet up to sunlight.

They were in a well.

"A fucking well!" Emma said.

"Calm yourself," Regina replied, delicately removing her mouthpiece and goggles. "You didn't bring me along for just my good looks, remember?"

With a gesture, a bucket and rope came tumbling down the well, narrowly missing Emma's head. When Emma gave her a look, Regina smiled insincerely in apology. Emma was the first to climb up. Let Regina get a faceful of her ass on the way up.

"So wait," Emma started, grateful to be able to _talk _after all that time underwater. "This is a well. It's not connected to the ocean. It's like a reservoir or an aquifer or groundwater or—something."

"Been a while since sixth-grade science class?" Regina asked.

"Like you went to school."

"I was tutored."

"Good for you!" Ariel said, apparently completely sincere. "You as well, Emma!"

Emma took a few more grunting pulls up the rope. "So how'd you get us here, Ariel?"

"All water is connected, Emma Swan," Ariel intoned. Whether it be in clouds, in ice, in sea. All flows between worlds in the Great River."

"So you can… 'teleport' wherever there's water?" Emma asked incredulously.

"As long as it's big enough for me to fit. And it can't be chlorinated."

"You could teleport into a bathtub," Emma said. "Make a great second-story man."

"And of course you'd think that," Regina mumbled.

"I prefer being a woman," Ariel said.

Emma reached the top of the well, hauled herself over the side, then reached back to pull up Regina and Ariel. She took some satisfaction in demonstrating her musculature. Anyone could learn magic, but biceps? Those took _work. _

And Emma finally realized what Ariel reminded her of. "Ghost Shark!"

"Where?" Ariel cried.

"You! Your superpower! It's like Ghost Shark!"

"_What?_" Regina asked flatly, wringing her hair out.

"You don't know about Ghost Shark? Ghost of a dead shark, killed by humans, and now it can haunt any body of water? Jump out of a glass of water and eat you? Eat you when you sit on the toilet? Get you while you're going down a Slip N Slide? Regina, don't you know anything?"

Regina, perhaps put off by Emma's display of strength… or her knowledge of Ghost Shark… hauled up the bucket herself. She'd tied the waterproof duffel bag they'd been towing to it. Once it was up, she opened it on the ground and took out their things: three smaller leather satchels the townspeople had stocked with supplies.

"Put the wetsuits and scuba gear in the bag," Regina said, moving the satchels to the side. "We'll bury them here and come back later when we're ready to go back." And she unzipped her wetsuit.

Emma felt a weird compulsion to look away. Weird because it was just three girls getting a little naked—wasn't any worse than a prison shower. Wasn't like Regina had anything she hadn't seen before.

Regina's… just kinda seemed better at it.

"Staring already, Emma?" Regina asked, tossing her wetsuit in the bag. "You're not going to be much help in Bagdad."

Emma peeled the wetsuit down her own legs. "What are we doing for clothes? Unless we're going to enter the city dressed like this."

It was a few miles in the distance, with a lone camel-rider between their watering hole and the buildings—a stunning vista of minarets, sandstone—shit, Emma didn't know what half of that stuff was called. It looked like an Arabian Nights movie on TCM, just without any white people.

Regina's purring voice jolted Emma out of her sightseeing. "So distracted by my beauty that you _still _think that's why you brought me?" She chuckled as an acrid smell filled the air—the smell of magic. Emma looked over and now saw Regina in one hell of a traveling dress. Glowingly beautiful, buttoned to the neck, and very tight.

Emma nodded tightly. "Alright." She kicked her wetsuit into the bag with Regina's. "Do me."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Not one day away from mommy and already she's making offers like that."

"You know what I mean. And no dresses. I want something I can kick ass in."

"I would dream of nothing less, Ms. Swan." A gesture, a poof of smoke, and Emma was wearing—leather trousers, a leather vest, she was dry, her hair was styled into a tight ponytail, and her belt had both a holster and a scabbard.

"Really?" Emma asked.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd like it." Regina seemed a little hurt, or maybe she was pouting just a bit too sarcastically.

"Oh, nothing's wrong. I just have this thing about wearing black leather _in the desert._"

Regina rolled her eyes. "Spoken like someone who's never suffered for fashion. Very well." Another wave of her hand and Emma had on something more like Lawrence of Arabia. Bedouin wear that felt a _lot _cooler already. And the keffiyeh made Emma feel like she was in Special Forces.

"Better," Emma said. Then she saw Ariel giggling. "_What?_"

"Those are men's clothes," Ariel said, mouth behind her hands.

Emma looked at Regina. "I know," the Queen said. "Who knew our little mermaid would be so knowledgeable about foreign cultures?"

"Well, screw it, I like 'em, I'm keeping 'em." It actually had more pockets than most of Emma's clothes back home. She began slotting her stuff out of the satchel and onto her person, hiding her pistol deep in the folds of her cloak. "Ariel, you?"

"Oh, no, I like this look." Ariel looked down at her body. "Don't you?"

_Please don't let her be hitting on me. _"Yeah," Emma said. "It's great. But you think it's modest enough for the Middle East?"

"We're not in the Middle East. We're in Bagdad."

"Regina, back me up here," Emma said, turning to her.

"She has a point. Your knowledge of the twenty-first century Islamic world—_whatever _it may be—isn't applicable to an alternate dimension with a cosmetic similarity to the Arabic folklore you know." Regina looked away thoughtfully. "If you want to get technical, Aladdin is a Chinese myth anyway…"

Emma gave Regina a bad-tempered look. "Alright. We're all dressed up pretty. Now let's talk about saving Storybrooke."

"Finally your priorities are in order, Ms. Swan."

"How do we find the lamp?" Emma said.

Regina opened up her satchel and pulled forth a cup of pudding and a spoon. She opened it and took a bite.

Emma looked at the foil top she'd dropped to the sand. "Great. We're the first litterbugs."

"I don't think well on an empty stomach," Regina chided her. "Now, you say you're familiar with this retelling of Aladdin in popular consciousness…"

"Cartoon," Emma enunciated slowly.

Regina bit her spoon rather than say anything. "I've often wondered why your world of Earth has so many legends of my world, and why some of them are so skewed. You remember when Henry and David used the magic of the Sleeping Curse to communicate with Aurora?"

"Yeah." Emma turned to Ariel to explain. "Henry and David used the magic of the Sleeping Curse to communicate with Aurora."

"I think, the some way Ariel believes all water is connected, that _dreams _are connected, even across parallel worlds. Carl Jung called it the collective unconscious—"

"Here we go," Emma muttered.

Regina's eyes flared up. "I'm sorry, are the mysteries of the unfathomable cosmos boring to you?"

"A little."

"I'll skip to the end. The magic exerted by True Love is so powerful that it can ripple across worlds, causing echoes of itself to manifest in the subconscious of people with receptive minds. They in turn interpret those echoes as stories—folklore, mythology, young adult novels—Disney movies. That you've probably already guessed."

"Yeah," Emma said unconvincingly. "Totally."

"What's interesting is this magic's relation to Einsteinian physics. Why is it that the story of Sleeping Beauty has existed since your seventeenth century, yet you can travel from present-day to a parallel world where it's taking place _right now?_"

Emma rolled her fingers in the air, gesturing for her to move it along.

"Time and space are not linear. The magic of True Love exerts a pull that influences cross-dimensional travel. We have traveled not only through space, but through _time._"

"Fantastic!" Ariel cheered. "What does that mean?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't clear," Regina said. Then at Emma: "_So _sorry. The point is—" Emma clenched her hands together in mock-thankfulness to the heavens, "_Emma, _the cartoon you saw as a child may indeed be a fractured documentation of actual events. Events we have now been interspersed in."

"Wait." Emma dropped her hands. "You're saying—we're in the goddamn movie?"

"I'm saying the movie is a retelling of the events that are about to unfold, and if you have knowledge of those events, we can use them to find the lamp and stop the Curse. And judging by the very non-Chinese architecture I'm seeing in the distance, I'd say the events we're experiencing influenced your cartoon far more than they did the original myth. Shame. That one had two genies."

"Genii?" Ariel asked.

"So what you're saying is… Walt Disney could be dreaming of this right now?"

"I suppose that's possible—"

Emma waved into the distance. "Sup Mr. Disney! Be nicer to the Jews!"

Regina watched Emma's hand go back and forth. "Storybrooke is doomed."


	4. Chapter 4

Walking into the city of Bagdad, Emma was stunned by the simple _reality _of what she was seeing. This wasn't the desiccated ruin of castles in the Enchanted Forest. This was a real, live fairy tale she was walking around in. A slice of almost-history. The sand was warm under her boots, the buildings were cracked and painted and old and new. And it was _cool. _Shockingly cool. The avenues of the city were lined with colorful awnings offering ample shade, almost all of them marked by striking designs. And either magic or the design of the city did something to the wind, caused a cold breeze to offset the heat of the sun. Emma rubbed her arms briskly, acclimating herself to the sudden descent in temperature.

Then she really looked at the people. It wasn't at all what she'd expected. There were some simple bishts, hijabs, and fezes, but that was just a tiny fraction of what the cosmopolitan crowd wore. There were travelers from distant lands who wore familiar European garb, or coolie hats and changshans. And a lot of the time, there were people who wore almost nothing at all.

Many of the men went topless, as well as wearing loincloths of less linen than the turbans that shielded their heads from the sun. Women were not shy about showing their nipples; many wore loose vests or scarfs that obliquely revealed them. Other women went bottomless under large blouses. In the darkened interiors of brothels with open doors, Emma saw women lounging around naked, only hiding a little of themselves with blankets to entice passersby.

And nudity wasn't the only thing public. A woman's upper body was hanging out a third-story window, bent over the sill as a man enthusiastically thrust into her lower half. In an alleyway, two men had a degree of privacy to—yeah—but it wasn't at all hard to tell what they were doing. There was even what looked like a dance of the seven veils taking place in the street, like a busker on the Muscle Beach boardwalk.

"Any of this look familiar?" Regina asked, tossing a look back at Emma.

"A little. But the cartoon was a lot more G-rated." Emma looked around to see that Ariel had stopped to gawk at one of the brothel entrances. They weren't an uncommon business. Emma pulled her along. "Not that I'm an expert on Islam, but doesn't Allah frown on this sort of thing?"

"Very perceptive!" Regina said. "But if this Baghad is roughly analogous to its contemporary Earthly counterpart, historically speaking, than it's more dedicated to Zoroastrianism than Islam. To say nothing of any other religions that may hold sway."

"So everyone worships at the Church of Skanky?"

Regina cast a look at her. "Sex is fun and naked people are nice to look at. If you ask me, _your _society is the weird one for finding both things immoral."

"And if you ask me, a city street should have slightly less nudity than HBO. Yeesh, this place is worse than San Francisco."

"Of course you've been to San Francisco," Regina muttered.

"Jealous?"

"That looks yummy!" Ariel cried, and Emma was very worried she'd gone and corrupted her favorite Disney princess when she saw the part-time mermaid was rushing to a falafel stand—just medieval. Which looked a lot more sanitary than most street vendors Emma had been to. "Can we, Regina? Can we?"

Regina looked over the cuisine thoughtfully, then reached into her purse and drew out two gold coins. The vendor looked at the offering of foreign gold, spat, and held up four fingers. Regina pulled out a third coin and dropped all three on the wooden counter, then folded her arms. Take it or leave it.

The vendor took it. A moment later, they all had falafels.

Emma was eating a falafel with the Evil Queen and the Little Mermaid in one of the 1001 Arabian Nights.

"So, Emma," Regina asked, "how does this cartoon of yours go?"

"Well, I haven't seen it since I was thirteen—let me think. First there's this street vendor who is really Robin Williams in disguise…"

"Spoilers!" Ariel said.

"—then Jafar looks for the Cave of Thunder and some thief of his eats it. _Riff raff! Street rat! Scoundrel! Take that! _Jasmine wants to marry for love and not money, so she kicks some suitor to the curb and the tiger is chewing on boxers with hearts on them even though the prince has a hole in his pants, I never got that…"

Regina rolled her fingers in the air, gesturing for Emma to move it along.

"Well, if this thing is kicking off, then I guess either Prince Ali just showed up or Aladdin is in the dungeon for being with Jasmine."

"Excuse me," Regina called to a nearby stranger—a man with quite a lot of chest and quite a little shirt. "Do you know if Prince Ali has been in the city?"

"No, miss. Haven't heard of any Prince Ali."

"What about the princess?" Emma asked. "I heard she got into some trouble, but no one will tell me what it was."

"Oh, no trouble. She was kidnapped by some street rat named Aladdin, but the Palace Guard rounded him up very quick. Even now he lies in the dungeon, awaiting his fate. Wanna fuck?"

"Excuse me?" Emma cried.

"A fuck. I've noticed you eying me. I find you most pleasing as well. There's quite a nice spot behind those stairs…"

"No! Thank you! I'm just, uh, you know…" Emma held up her food. "Falafeling."

"Your loss," the man said amicably, and walked on.

"Handled with the grace and class of a princess," Regina proclaimed when he was gone.

"Yeah. Feels like I'm back in Boston. Just because sex is a spectator sport here, am I going to have to say _no le interesa _every five minutes?"

"Try not to send out any signals," Regina suggested. "You'll note I haven't been propositioned and, well, look at me."

Emma did give her a look. A very unfriendly, unamused look.

"May I watch your coitus?" a passerby asked.

Regina gave _him _a look. "Run."

He was quick to leave.

"Everyone here is so polite," Ariel mused. "Not at all like the seahorses back home…"

"Okay, throw me to the single guys if I'm wrong," Emma began, head in her hands, "but how's this for a plan: we find the dungeon, bust Aladdin out, and use him to get into the Cave of Wonders?"

"Elegant in its simplicity," Regina said, "which is a step-up for your simplicity."

"So how do we find the dungeon? Because if someone has to hit on another horny dude, it's your turn."

"Well, perhaps I'm biased because of my experience running a kingdom, but I can't imagine the Guard here would be too nonplussed about three strange women asking around about prisoners and the royal dungeon. The simplest thing would be to get ourselves thrown into the dungeon and escape with Aladdin."

Emma threw up her hands. "How did I know this was going to turn into you killing someone?"

"I don't intend to murder anyone!" Regina shot back venomously. "Not yet, at least. It's still early. No, I think we can arrange something a bit more subtle."

She stood. A squad of what could only be the Royal Guard, judging by their uniforms, weapons, and cop swagger, were coming down the avenue. Everyone, even the horses, got out of their way as they patrolled.

And Regina approached them. "Excuse me, miss. We're new in town, and we're not familiar with the ruler of this fair city. If you would enlighten me?"

The guard eyed Regina, somewhat more appreciatively than Emma cared for. "We owe our allegiance to Sultan Hamed."

"Ah yes. I thought so." Regina turned to Emma. "I knew this was the city ruled by the foulest, most dunderheaded, imbecilic leader this realm has ever known."

The guards shifted with surprised indignation, and their leader especially regarded Regina with anger. "I'd watch your tongue if I were you!"

"What?" Regina spread her arms innocently. "Isn't it common knowledge that Sultan Hamed's lack of wits is only equaled by his lack of virility?"

The guards had more hands on their scimitars than they had free. Emma got up to take Regina's arm.

"Hey, Mills, maybe we can save the political commentary for the next radio show you call?"

Regina gave her a look, eyes broadcasting _Trust me, _her quick nod to the guards indicating Emma should follow her lead.

Well, at least if they ended up beheaded, Emma would have the best seat in the house for seeing Regina get hers.

"Oh! You mean Sultan _Hamed! _Yeah, he—he really sucks. He's just… stupid. Sultan Hamed doesn't care about black people."

"One more word about our Sultan," the lead guard said, "and it'll be the dungeon for you!"

"My! In that case, Ariel, is there anything you'd like to add?"

Ariel stared at them. "I think it's perfectly awful how rude you're being about someone you don't even know!"

"No, Ariel," Emma said, "say something mean about the Sultan."

"I won't!"

"You have to!"

"I will not!"

"Do it _now_," Regina growled.

"Something mean about the Sultan!" Ariel cried.

The lead guard laughed aloud. "At least one of you has sense. Your friend is free to go. You two, come with me!"

* * *

There were infinite worlds. Endless time. Planets of crystal, caves of gold, cities of plants, seas of blood, towers of song, rivers of love. Regina and Emma had seen more than their share of other worlds, and even those were just a handful of the multiverse's offerings.

Dungeons seemed to be dank, grim rooms of gray stone and iron manacles no matter where you found yourself, though.

Their arraignment had been hours spent waiting in line, in chains, then the guard had spoken a few words to the magistrate and they'd been sentenced forthwith. They were led down into one of many cells, seated roughly at a wall, and their arms were bound over their heads. "Enjoy your stay here," the guard rumbled, marching off. "Try to get along with your new roommate, too. You may be hired with him at the slave auctions."

The door shut resoundingly behind her.

Emma was starting to regret a few of those bail bonds jobs she'd taken. "Slave auctions?"

"An auction where prisoners are sold as slaves," Regina explained patiently. "If their friends or family pay the price, they can go free. If someone else puts in a higher bid—" She saw the apprehensive look on Emma's face. "Relax. I can't see anyone wanting to buy _you._"

"You'd better hope _someone _does," came a voice from the other end of the shadowy room.

Emma's eyes strained at the darkness until the clouds of the night sky let the moonlight filter in through a basement window. Then she saw him.

Dude looked like that guy who got kicked out of Saudi Arabia for being too hot. His vest revealed enough of his torso to mark him as tanned and muscular, while his hair wasn't too long or too short, just a nice wavy length.

"Careful, you can't wipe the drool off your chin with your hands cuffed," Regina said tartly, eyes rolling.

"Shut it," Emma whispered back. "Can we leave the jailhouse stuff to me? As you've so often pointed out, I'm the convict in the family."

"I've been in dungeons before," Regina shot back, quite snide.

"Do you get laid in them?"

Regina's eyebrows made a bid for her hairline. "Why, Ms. Swan!"

"Quiet. She was cute. Like, Alex Vause cute. And I was down on men after the whole 16 & Pregnant thing—I'm over it. It was a phase."

"Yes, because that's how that works. Until twenty-three years ago, I thought the sun revolved around the Earth, but even I know you don't just screw other women because nothing good's on TV."

"Try not having a TV. Because you're in a jail."

"What are you two talking about?" Aladdin, or possibly not Aladdin, asked. Apparently their whispers had escalated. "What's a TV?"

"Don't worry about it!" Emma said sweetly, batting her eyelashes a little. "So, hey, why would it be bad if we didn't get bought?"

"Because then you'd be sent to the salt mines."

_Salt mines? Those are the worst kind! _Emma thought.

"Don't worry," Aladdin assured her. "You'll probably be bought by a burlesque or brothel. It's not bad work."

"You don't have to tell Emma that," Regina smirked.

"Shut _up,_" Emma whispered through clenched teeth. "I'm trying to bond here!"

Aladdin saved her some trouble. "So, what're girls like you doing in a place like this?"

"We spoke out against the Sultan." Regina made it sound like the only thing more trifling would be stealing a loaf of bread.

"The resistance, eh? Great." Aladdin rolled his neck, clearly irritated with the notion.

Facing him, Emma sweetened her voice once more. "So, what're you in for?"

"I made out with a woman."

"Man, they're strict here."

"She was a princess."

"Oh really." Emma cast a look at Regina, who remained resolutely unimpressed.

"Just the most gorgeous girl—her face and her lips and her eyes…" He sighed, lovesick.

Regina seemed more and more jealous by the moment, especially the way Emma was beaming a little over his romanticism. "Yes, those are all parts of the face."

"Maybe you can see her again," Emma offered, rather more helpfully.

"Nah. I'll be lucky if I see the outside of this dungeon again. People who trifle with the royal family aren't known for their enjoyable retirements. Unless…" Aladdin was looking to the window again, where now a small form had appeared between the bars. "Ha ha! Great timing, Abu!"

A monkey, adorably but somewhat mawkishly dressed in a vest and fez, scurried down the stone blocks to the floor of the dungeon. No sooner had Abu set down then he scampered over to Aladdin on all fours.

"And what is this… creature?" Regina asked imperially.

"Abu. He's sorta my only friend. Only one I need, anyway."

Regina looked at Emma for confirmation.

"It seemed a lot less weird when I was a kid," Emma said.

"Hurry up, get me out of these!" Aladdin rattled his chains. "And maybe the ladies too, if they'd be interested in a nightcap?"

Regina rolled her eyes even as Emma said "Sure thing!"

The monkey, though, let out a string of invective that resembled speech so much, it was barely a surprise that Aladdin replied. "I didn't know she was a princess at the time! I thought she was a hooker!"

That's when the door opened. Abu scampered off.

The woman who entered was beautiful, but not in the lush way Regina was, or the wholesome manner Emma possessed. Her looks were angular and hard, with cruel cheekbones dominating a narrow face, hidden from the nose down by a semi-translucent veil. Her long dark hair draped sensuously down her shoulder, clinched by a dark, metallic circlet.

Another veil started at her collar, covering her otherwise unadorned chest and making her proud breasts a matter of public record. The veil continued down her hips and legs, though those were covered by a floor-length skirt slit on either side to let her long legs flash out as she walked, like swords unsheathing. The two layers of embroidered fabric meshed with her intricately tattooed skin to make an artistic statement, as beautiful as it was arousing.

"I am Nasira," she announced herself in a clear, musically accented voice. "The guards allow me in early to have my pick of their stock. I'm looking for someone with a strong back and a thief's skills to run an errand for me. Go into a hazardous cave, retrieve one item, and keep the rest for yourself."

"There's treasure there?" Aladdin asked, his eyes already gleaming.

Nasira held out her hand. It glowed red with rubies. "What do you think?" She looked him over. "Yes. I think you could do nicely. Avoid any traps—bypass any obstacles…"

"I'm your man," Aladdin said certainly. "Just get me out of these cuffs and I'll get you your treasure."

"Mmm." Nasira considered it. "Or perhaps your cellmates? A woman has to do more than a man to get herself locked up in this city."

"Uhh…" Emma began.

Nasira wasn't looking at her. She was eying Regina. And Regina was eying her right back. "The two of us can grab your treasure. Absolutely. And we can offer—certain benefits some _man _wouldn't be able to offer."

Leaning over, Regina extended her tongue—it _curled _in mid-air—and licked Emma's face.

Emma was a bit too stunned to go more than go along with the… whatever.

"Now that is interesting." Nasira licked her lips. Then turned back to Aladdin. "And you, sir? Anything you could offer besides your… strong back?"

"Why don't you free my hands and I'll show you?"

"I'd prefer to see for myself." Leaning down, her hands went to Aladdin's breeches. She pulled them down his hips until his cock came springing out. It was well-sized. Damn well-sized, from Emma's point of view. Not ridiculously big, like in some porno, but just—_big. _She suddenly felt a lot better about marrying her Barbie to the guy as a kid. Clearly she'd had some good taste as an adolescent.

"So…" Emma whispered to Regina, "they're just going to—"

"Ariel is going to be sorry she missed this," Regina replied.

Nasira grabbed his prick with both hands—it _took _both hands—and lowered herself right onto the object of her hot little hands. With a flick of her wrist, both her skirts opened up for his entrance like they were designed to. Nasira breathily savored every moment of her penetration, sliding down an inch—_"Ooh!"_—then another—"_Ah!"_—and another—"_Mmm!"_—until she stopped with only a few inches left outside of her hungry snatch.

Emma and Regina grew very quiet indeed.

Nasira leered over her shoulder at them. "What's the matter? Afraid to work with an audience?" Emma set her jaw resolutely, but couldn't find anything to say.

Regina, for her part, imagined herself as the Evil Queen again, going into _her_ dungeon and seeing if there were specimens handsome enough to win their freedom in the marital bed. It was a good idea. Why hadn't she done it? More entertaining than executions, at any rate.

Nasira's mouth flew open with a final exhortation: "Fuck… _me…_" she said slowly. All of Aladdin was inside her, hers to do with as she pleased. She raised herself up and fucked herself on it, showing no more relish, no mercy, just working his cock in and out of herself fast, faster, as fast as she could.

Emma began shifting around, squirming, trying to ease the tension in her clit. She had to admit, if this were playing on the pay-per-view at some motel, she'd spring for it. Then she remembered Regina beside her. The Queen looked poised as ever, even with her lips pinching together every so often.

"Enjoying the show?" she asked Emma.

"We don't tell anyone in Storybrooke about this," Emma whispered back. "_Anyone."_

"Well, gosh, I was planning on mentioning it to Granny the next time I saw her, but now that you bring it up, I could see how Storybrooke could be filled with narrow-minded cretins who can't appreciate the nuances of the world's shades of gray."

"Could you keep it down?" Aladdin grunted out. "Some of us are… _ergh… _trying to enjoy ourselves!"

"So is she," Regina deadpanned, nodding her head to Emma.

Emma resolved to stop squirming. No matter how good it'd felt.

Nasira parted the veil over her breasts, now forcing her breasts into Aladdin's face. She shook like she was being electrocuted, eyes closed, tongue rolling over her lips, her hips pulling her almost all the way off his cock. Emma could see it, wet, glistening, a blue vein standing out, and then it was buried in Nasira again. She tried looking away, but even _Regina _was looking good just then. Damn, she was _thirsty._

Nasira slammed herself down on Aladdin. Her body shook like he was a beast with his jaws in her; her hands jammed on her breasts, squeezing them as they buzzed electric with pleasure. Lifting their heavy weight and letting them slide over her palms. Aladdin moaned so long and so loud it could've been a howl, then went limp under her with a dazed smile on his face. His hips slid under her, still working as she relaxed against him, prolonging her pleasure until he was literally drained. Then Nasira lifted herself off him, leaving his cock slumped on his thigh and pulling her skirts closed.

She turned to Regina. "That… was well-done. Very well-done. I wonder if even the two of you can better it."

"Two of—" Emma started, but Regina interrupted her.

"My companion here is, unfortunately enough, still suffering from a certain sickness of the loins that still requires treatment." Emma shot Regina a look. "But believe me—she'd only get in the way."

"We'll see," Nasira said, advancing as she drew her skirts open once more.

Regina puckered her lips.

Ten minutes later, all four of them were out of the dungeon and on their way to Nasira's destination, deep in the cold desert.


End file.
